She was very aware of the black leather tote bag that rested on the empty chair beside her. Inside were the phalluses and the butterfly panties she’d worn in the tent. Donovan had handed her the bag when they entered the café, instructing her to go to the bathroom and remove the items before joining him at the table.
Menus and glasses of water had appeared while she was in the bathroom, and a waitress came by now to take their orders. They decided to share a pizza. While they were waiting for the food, the waitress returned with a carafe of red wine and two wineglasses.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Donovan said with a smile. “I took the liberty of ordering while you were in the bathroom.” They watched as the waitress filled their glasses and then left with the promise to return soon with the pizza.
Donovan picked up his glass and held it aloft. “A toast. To taking risks and discovering new things.”
Jordan clinked her glass lightly against his, a smile her only response.
“This is just a break, you know. Your forty-eight hours aren’t over yet.”
Jordan swallowed, nodding, as her heart did a little somersault in her chest. She didn’t want it to be over. Not now. Not yet.
Donovan took another drink of wine and set down his glass. “So tell me about yourself, Jordan. Gene mentioned something about your leaving New York rather abruptly. What brought you to San Francisco?”
“Truth?” Jordan said, taking another large sip of her wine.
“Naturally,” Donovan replied.
“The west coast was as far as I could get from New York.”
“A guy?” Donovan asked softly, his expression suddenly hard to read.
Jordan shook her head. “No. I guess it was just system overload. It had gotten to the point where I dreaded even getting out of bed each morning. My job sucked, my boss sucked, the apartment building I lived in was changing to co-op and I had to either buy in or get out. I wasn’t even having fun anymore at the BDSM club where I liked to hang out. Everything had become a drag, all the pleasure drained out of it. I looked around one night and realized I was a gerbil caught running in a wheel, spinning and spinning, but going nowhere.”
“So you, what, just got in your car and drove as far away as you could?” Donovan looked both incredulous and amused.
Jordan nodded. “That’s about the size of it. Yeah.” She shook her head, marveling at her own insanity. “Crazy, right?”
“I think it’s great!” Donovan said, his smile lighting his blue eyes. “Very courageous. Which is in keeping with everything I’ve learned about you this weekend.”
Jordan pondered this, feeling ridiculously pleased. “Really? You think I’m courageous?”
Donovan’s smile fell away and he nodded soberly. “I do. In spite of misgivings, you found the courage to trust me, but more importantly, yourself. I gave you a lot to handle, Jordan. You didn’t white knuckle your way through it either. You were scared some of the time, sure, but you tapped into the power of your submissive nature, and you exhibited extraordinary grace. Any Master would be proud to claim you as his sub.”
Jordan held her breath. Was he going to ask her to become his fulltime sub girl? Was she ready to take such a leap after just a weekend together? After all, she was still dominant, at least with every guy except the Master. Did he expect her to throw all that aside? Would she be able to, even if she wanted to?
“So, you ready to pick up the whip again tomorrow, Mistress?” the Master said, as if they were just two colleagues sharing a casual lunch. “You’re still going to need to juggle waitressing duties until we can get a replacement. Gene’s working on that. We agreed that once word gets out that we have a Mistress in residence, the waiting list for your services will be a mile long.”
Jordan felt at once relieved and chagrined that she’d so misjudged what Donovan had been about to say. She answered in a light tone, hoping her laugh didn’t sound too forced. “I’ll be ready, don’t worry. I was born ready.”
Donovan laughed in apparent approval. “I believe that. Yes, I do.”
The waitress, as if on cue, appeared with their pie and they each took a slice. Jordan welcomed the distraction, as it gave her time to compose herself. They ate the meal in relative silence.
Jordan accepted the offer of a second glass of wine, letting its pleasant buzz relax her. Their time together so far had to be the most bizarre and also the most intensely erotic experience of her life. They had clearly gone far beyond just fulfilling the terms of some bet. Their connection had been deep and immediate. No way Donovan didn’t feel it too.
Maybe he was just being sensibly cautious. Surely it was impossible to sustain the stunning level of intensity that existed between them since the minute she’d arrived at his house. Maybe he, too, was feeling his way in whatever it was that was developing between them. Maybe he was just giving her some space, in anticipation of her leaving the next day. Yes, that had to be it. She wouldn’t blow it by pushing too hard, too fast. She would go with the flow.
Stop anticipating. You need to let go. Of everything.
Yes, Sir, Jordan said silently. Yes, Master Donovan.
~*~
“As I’m sure you know well from your own experience as a Domme,” Donovan said as he stroked the silky soft folds of Jordan’s cunt, “a sub must learn to control his or, in this case, her, orgasm, denying herself until it pleases her Master to let her come. By the same token, when he gives her a command to come, she must do so at once.” He was kneeling beside the lovely, naked girl, savoring the sweet tremble of her limbs as he teased her with his fingers.
Jordan was draped on her back over a long, low padded adjustable bench, the front legs set lower than the back so that her pelvis was offered up, legs spread wide on either side of the bench. Though she nodded in agreement, something in her face gave Donovan pause.
“What?” he asked. “What are you thinking?” He pushed a finger into her wetness as he asked the question and Jordan let out a small groan, a tremor moving through her body.
“Focus,” Donovan admonished, crooking his finger inside her and stroking the soft wetness enveloping it. “Answer the question.”
Jordan blew out several breaths through pursed lips as she struggled for control. Finally she managed in a breathy voice, “I get what you’re saying in theory. I’ve never actually had a full time sub or anything close to that, but I did engage in a little orgasm control play back at the club with some guys. Not that they ever managed to control themselves very well.” She gave a small laugh, which edged into a moan as Donovan continued to stroke her.
“Go on,” he urged. “Finish your thought.”
“Oooo,” Jordan sighed as Donovan ran his thumb in a light circle over her hard clit. She rallied herself enough to continue, “I understand resisting your orgasm, up to a point, but I don’t really get how you can just make yourself come whenever you want, just because your Master says so. I mean, it’s a physiological thing, isn’t it? I can’t just will myself to orgasm.”
“It’s a good question. The answer is that a good Master won’t set you up with impossible odds, unless for some reason he wishes you to fail, which is a different scenario than what I’m talking about. When I, I mean your Master, tells you to hold back, it’s because he knows you’re being stimulated to the point of orgasm, and he wants to measure your ability to control your body to suit his pleasure. So, when he tells you to come, your only job at that point is to let go. It’s like opening a flood gate. You learn to keep it closed until directed to open it. It’s really very simple.”
He continued to stroke her, adding a second finger to the first inside the velvet clutch of her hot, wet cunt. Jordan’s eyes closed as she groaned, her hips arching upward. He could feel her clit beneath his palm, hard as a little diamond.
“Control yourself,” Donovan said sternly. “Stop focusing on your own sexual pleasure. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Jordan’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked in the
direction of his face, though she didn’t appear to be focusing. Donovan pulled his fingers, sticky with her juices, away from her yielding body and reached for the riding crop.
“Today you had eight orgasms. I warned you beforehand you would be punished for each orgasm. It seems fitting the focus of the punishment should be your cunt, don’t you agree?”
Donovan waited. When Jordan didn’t respond, he picked up the riding crop he’d selected for her punishment and smacked her inner thigh sharply with the small rectangular flap of leather.
“Ow!” Jordan cried, slamming her legs together.
“Open your legs!” Donovan ordered. With obvious reluctance, Jordan obeyed. Clearly, she needed a lot more than forty-eight hours to be properly trained. “Now answer the question. Does your cunt deserve to be punished for all those orgasms?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jordan finally muttered, though Donovan could tell she wasn’t convinced, but only saying what she thought he wanted to hear.
He reminded himself she was new to this side of the D/s equation, and said in a gentler tone, “I know you feel like it’s a setup. I put you in a situation where you can’t help but come, and then punish you for doing just that. The real point of the exercise is that the Master dictates what happens, and you accept it. You submit, not necessarily because something makes sense to you or works for you, but entirely and only because it pleases your Master. By mutual consent you are his to do with as he pleases. Of course, in a relationship of this kind, the Master has a huge responsibility to keep his sub safe, and if he’s worth his salt, he will also cherish and adore her. But the bottom line is, his word is law. You aren’t to question his dictates. You just have to obey to the best of your ability and to submit with as much grace as you possess.”
He watched as Jordan seemed to absorb this. “I believe your cunt needs to be punished for all those orgasms. Do you agree with that, sub girl?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Donovan smiled. “Good girl.” He picked up the riding crop. “Tilt your hips so I have full access to your cunt. I’m going to crop you. We’ll start slow so you can adjust, but then you’ll take eight hard blows directly on your cunt, one for each orgasm. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jordan whispered, her eyes wide.
“And why will you endure this punishment?”
“Because it pleases you, Sir.”
Donovan smiled. “Now you’re getting it. And to make sure you’re a willing participant in the punishment, I want you to hold your cunt open for me. Spread it wide with your fingers. If you let go at any point, we’ll have to start over.”
Donovan lifted his wet finger to his lips, tasting Jordan’s nectar as he studied her reaction. The flash of fear in her eyes, along with the flush rising up her neck and over her cheeks, and the perk of her fully erect nipples told Donovan in no uncertain terms he had Jordan just where he wanted her—balanced on the edge of lust, erotic fear and, yes, longing for what he offered.
She titled her hips provocatively upward and reached for her cunt to spread it wide for her punishment. Donovan moved directly between Jordan’s spread legs, shifting back on his knees until he was at the best angle to crop her pretty pussy.
He began lightly, not much more than a firm stroke of black leather against the dark pink labia, which were glistening and swollen with arousal. Almost at once Jordan began to moan, small mewling sounds. Donovan gave her some time to adjust and then, without warning, he let the first real blow land with a thwack.
“One,” he intoned over Jordan’s squeal. Because she wasn’t expecting it, and because she was undisciplined, Jordan let go of her pussy lips as she cried out.
“Back in position,” Donovan said calmly, waiting until she obeyed. “And we start over.” He struck her again, as hard as before. “One.”
She managed to keep her position. “Good girl,” Donovan said softly and then, “Two,” as he smacked the tender folds. Again Jordan cried out, but she held her position. “Three. Four. Five”
Jordan began to whimper. Her entire body was shaking. Donovan paused, giving her a moment to collect herself, while at the same time heightening the anticipation for the next blow.
Just as an experiment, he asked, “Who do you belong to?”
“You, Sir,” Jordan moaned without any hesitation. Something clutched at Donovan’s heart, throwing him temporarily off balance. To regain his equilibrium, he smacked at Jordan’s exposed inner thighs in a steady series of stinging blows. Her pale skin reddened quickly beneath the leather. Donovan was pleased to see she kept her fingers at her cunt, spreading her labia wide.
Unable to resist a moment longer, Donovan again smacked her exposed, tender folds. “Six.”
Jordan yelped and nearly fell out of position, but recalled herself in time. She was panting, tears leaking from the corners of her closed eyes.
“Seven.”
Her moan was low and feral, her entire body tensed. Donovan waited, his cock pulsing in his jeans, his balls aching. He wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer. His blood was hot, fired up by her erotic suffering and his fierce desire to claim her.
Leaning forward, he blew lightly on Jordan’s wet, swollen cunt. She gasped, her eyes flying open. “That’s right.” Donovan nodded, holding her gaze captive in his. “Keep your eyes open for the last one.”
She began to tremble again, her green eyes swimming with tears that couldn’t hide the answering spark of fire that emanated from somewhere deep inside her. He raised the crop over her sex, pulling an anticipatory whimper from the sub girl.
Their mutual desire, heightened by Jordan’s erotic fear and the rush of his own sadistic power, moved like an electric current between them. His gaze interlocked with hers, Donovan brought the crop down with a resounding smack.
“Eight.”
Jordan cried out, her legs slamming closed as she rolled from the low bench to the floor. Donovan didn’t stop her or admonish her for failing to remain in position until released. She was at the very limit of what she could handle, and he knew she’d given him everything she had.
Donovan moved so he was kneeling beside her. He placed a hand lightly on her back as she rocked herself back and forth like a child. He stroked her back and shoulders until her trembling subsided and he felt her body relax.
He stood, reaching down to lift her into his arms. She hid her face, still wet with tears, against his chest as he carried her to the bedroom. Again he felt that unfamiliar clutching at his heart, as if someone, as if Jordan, were reaching into his chest and squeezing.
He laid her gently on the bed and lay down beside her, pulling her into his arms. He was still fully dressed, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, aware if he got naked, he would lose the last toehold of self-control he possessed. Jordan needed some recovery time, and Donovan forced himself to be content with just holding her in his arms.
They lay quietly for several minutes. Donovan felt Jordan’s body relax against him, her breath slowing and deepening. He held her tighter, nuzzling his head against the back of her neck, memorizing the feel of her, the smell of her.
What would happen tomorrow?
Stay in the moment, Donovan reminded himself. He let his mind empty, slowing his breathing to match that of the sleeping girl beside him. It wasn’t long before he felt the tug of sleep pulling him down into the mattress. Giving in, he closed his eyes.
~*~
Later that evening, after a long, hot shower and a simple meal, Donovan led Jordan back into the bedroom. As they stood beside the bed, he lifted her face in his hands. She closed her eyes, her lips parting for a kiss. Donovan’s lips met hers, his tongue entering her mouth as he moved one hand across her slender throat.
She gasped lightly against his mouth as he placed his finger and thumb strategically beneath her jaw on either side. With his other hand, he pulled her close. He could feel the erect points of her breasts as he crushed her to his chest, his mouth still locked on hers.
When he let her go, she
stumbled back, her mouth still parted like a little bird’s, her eyes shining with desire that mirrored his own. Donovan surrendered to temptation, dipping his head to catch one hard nipple in his teeth. He tugged gently and then a little harder, waiting for her small, erotic gasp of pain before closing his lips over the nubbin and swirling his tongue in a circle around it.
Her moan set a jolt of pure fire through his body. He lifted his face to study hers and stroked her cheek. Her skin was fever-hot, her eyes glittering. Unable to hold himself back for another second, Donovan pushed at Jordan’s shoulders, forcing her down onto the bed.
“Don’t move,” he ordered as he reached for his belt, opened his pants and pulled off his shirt, throwing the lot in a heap on the floor. He grabbed the condom packet he’d set on the night table before dinner and tore it open.
Jordan, who was watching him with hungry eyes, shook her head. “I’m protected,” she whispered.
With a nod, Donovan dropped the condom, forgetting it as he lifted himself over the beautiful girl with a barely suppressed groan. He’d been waiting all weekend for this, and it had been harder with each passing hour to resist. Only the knowledge that it would diminish Jordan’s submissive experience if he gave in too soon had kept his lust at bay.
He kissed her again, his cock like a throbbing bar of steel against her thigh. He lifted his head long enough to murmur urgently, “I want you, Jordan. I must have you.” Then he kissed her again, loving the taste of her, thrilling to her soft, feminine body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her pelvis tilting and legs parting beneath him in silent but clear invitation.
He’d planned to draw out the time until he actually penetrated her, teasing her until she begged for it, but now he found he couldn’t resist her for even one more second. The entire weekend had been extended foreplay, in a way, all leading toward this moment.
Donovan reached for his cock, guiding the head to her opening. He nudged just the crown inside her slick heat, somehow finding the strength to hold out just a little longer. “You want it?” he teased. “You want your Master to fuck you, slave girl?”